In Love and Peace
by Kay Em2
Summary: An old friend of Hawkeye's looks for him at the end of the war but finds someone else at the 8063rd... FINISHED. Please R
1. Hello and goodbyes

**In Love and Peace  
By Kay Em**

**Part One**

_Disclaimer: The characters, alas, are not mine. They belong to Fox. But once I got the idea, I just had to write it down. By the way, spelling is in English English (not American English), 'cos that's where I am and that's how I write. Constructive feedback and comments welcome! Thanks._

**_NB – As my French is appalling, please just assume that the phrases written in bold italics are spoken in French! Ta._**

**August 1953**

"Charles! Good news!"

Charles looked up from the notes he was holding to see Margaret hurrying through the 8063rd Post-op ward towards him.

"Well, peace has broken out already, so I hope you're going to tell me that this little circus is finally folding its tents so we can go home?" he ventured, initialling the notes and clipping them back on the bed rail.

She nodded, smiling. "I just overheard Colonel Wheatley telling Major Parker that we should all be out of here by next week. They'll start shipping us out via Seoul just a soon as these last cases can be moved."

"That is good news. I'll have to see if there isn't anything else I can do to speed these recoveries," said Charles. "At the moment, Private Finian here needs a good three days more before he can go anywhere – and the boy over there with the spinal injury will probably need a day or two longer than that. Still, there are plenty of doctors around here, hopefully someone will realise we don't all have to wait around and compare notes."

"Excuse me, Majors?" Stevens, the 8063rds clerk put his head around the door. "There's a lady out here who's looking for someone from the 4077th – could you help her out at all, please?"

With a 'why not?' shrug, Charles followed Margaret out to the compound – and realised immediately that Stevens had used the word 'lady' advisedly. The young woman in front of them was both lovely and elegant. Her clothes, though practical, were well cut and set off by understated but beautifully-made accessories.

"Hello," he said, stepping forward and extending his right hand for her to shake. "I'm Dr Charles Emerson Winchester, and this is Major Margaret Houlihan. I understand you're looking for someone from our old unit?"

"The 4077th, yes doctor. Do you know Captain Pierce?"

Charles nearly fell over. What on earth could such an elegant and attractive woman possibly want with Hawkeye Pierce?

"Sure we know him," said Margaret, cutting in before Charles could say anything, "But he went straight to Seoul when the 4077th was disbanded – he's probably been shipped home by now."

"Oh. That is a pity. I would have liked to have seen him again, to say goodbye."

She looked so disappointed that Charles found himself saying, "Well – we could call Seoul, couldn't we? And find out?"

"Could you?" The disappointment was replaced by hope. "That would be very kind. Oh – please excuse me, I have not yet told you my name. I am Min Kyung Soon. Hawkeye – Captain Pierce – he tried to help my mother when she was very sick. He was… very kind to me."

"Oh wait, I remember," said Margaret, "You moved south when your mother died? This would be about two years ago?"

"Yes, that's right! Did Hawkeye mention me then?"

"He sure did!" said Margaret. "You remember, Charles? Hawkeye was back and forth to Kyung Soon's estate for about a fortnight while the old lady was sick."

"Oh yes – I do vaguely recall two weeks of relative peace and quiet in the Swamp," he said, "But I'd not been in Korea very long, I was still in shock at the time."

"Is that what you'd call it?" said Margaret, dryly. "Kyung Soon, it's a pleasure to meet you. Why don't we go talk to Corporal Stevens right now and see what we can find out?"

Stevens was almost as helpful as Radar or Klinger would have been in the same circumstances, and before long Margaret and Charles between them had managed to pull enough rank and call in enough favours to establish that Hawkeye was still in Seoul, helping out the Military Hospital there.

"He should have flown out last week," said Margaret, handing Kyung Soon a piece of paper with the Hospital details on it, "But he found out they were short on doctors there and he volunteered to stay on until more of the wounded have been evacuated."

"Always said his sentiment would be his undoing," muttered Charles, "Still, it does mean that Kyung Soon will be able to see him again. Though heaven alone knows why any woman would want to."

Margaret grinned. "I'll second that!"

"I doubt that," said Charles, "Given the way you kissed him goodbye. Ouch! You…"

"So sorry, Major, my foot slipped," she said, giving him one of her 'don't mess with me' smiles. "Kyung Soon, is there anything else we can do to help? I mean – if you're moving back to your estate, there must be things you need?"

"You have an estate?" said Charles, looking at the Korean with renewed interest.

She nodded, and briefly explained to him how she had been forced to move away from her house and land during the worst of the fighting. "But now I come back, hoping to start again," she said, "Though I do not know if it can ever be the same. Right now, I am not even sure if there are landmines in my fields. It will be… difficult."

"I should say that's understating it," said Charles, folding his arms and leaning against Stevens' desk, "Can't the army give you any idea where they buried those things?"

"Which army?" said Kyung Soon, "There have been British, American and North Koreans all over this area. Sorting out who has mined what is going to take a long time, I think."

"I'm afraid it'll probably take a few lives too," said Margaret, "You take care, Kyung Soon – and tell your people too."

"I will," she said, "Thank you. And thank you for finding Hawkeye for me."

"Are you sure there's nothing more we can do to help?" said Charles, as she turned to leave.

She shook her head. "Only if you have a recording of Beethoven's second violin concerto to spare," she said, with a smile, "I'm afraid my copy got smashed somewhere between here and Changnyeong."

The lady was full of surprises, thought Charles, beaming at her. "Would you like the 1946 recording by Yehudi Menuhin and the London Philharmonic, or the 1950 one by the New York Symphony Orchestra?" he said.

Kyung Soon tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind one ear, and gave him a sideways look. "Are you being serious?" she said, doubt edging her voice.

"Perfectly," said Charles, moving across the room to open the door for her, "In fact, if you'll follow me, I'll see what else I can find that hasn't been shipped home yet. Tell me, do you like Mussorgsky at all? Or Mahler…?"

* * *

As Charles braked the jeep to a halt outside the broken remains of Kyung Soon's house, she came out into the yard to meet him.

"Hello, Major! It's nice to see you again, but I was not expecting a house-call."

"Well, I've been going through my things, trying to sort everything out in readiness for our imminent transfer to Seoul," he said, swinging out of the jeep and walking around back of it, "And I found a few more bits and pieces that I don't really need to take home with me, and which I thought you might be glad of."

"Cognac?" she said, lifting a bottle out of one of the boxes he lowered to the ground, "Major, this is a good brand – one of the best. Are you sure…?"

"My name is Charles," he said, "And there'll be plenty of that at home. Actually, I'm hoping that once I'm back there, I won't feel the need to drink quite so much of it anyway. Besides, if you look closely, you'll see that it's been opened!"

She returned his smile. "There is plenty left," she said, holding the bottle up to the light. "And what is this? Wine too? Oh – Chateau Margeaux! Wonderful! Thank you, Charles."

"You are entirely welcome," he said, "I brought some rather more practical things too." He lifted another cardboard box from the jeep's back seat. "Major Houlihan and I put together a little First Aid kit for you – and, ah, the Major looked out some clothes, they're in that box over there?"

"Please – take the medicines into the house," she said, pointing the way, and following on with the wine and cognac. "I will find some glasses for this, if you will join me? I would like to offer a toast to you. I do not have anything else to offer but my thanks – and a little kimchi, if you would like some?"

Charles nodded, admiring her fortitude – and the way her dark hair blew in the breeze. "I'd be honoured. I'll just fetch the rest of the things in first," he said, glancing around at the bare, ruined walls, lone wicker chair and broken table. "I'm sorry – I thought medicine and food would be useful, but none of it is going to be much help repairing your roof or your walls."

She smiled. "'_**We are never either so fortunate or so misfortunate as we imagine**_'," she said, in flawless French.

Charles responded in kind: "'_**Our wisdom lies as much at the mercy of fortune as our possessions do'**_."

Her face glowed with delight. "You know La Rochefoucauld!"

"Why certainly," he said, "Though, if you'll forgive me, I'm a little surprised that you're familiar with his work."

"I studied in Paris many years ago," she said, "I would like to go back some day."

"So would I," said Charles, "Although…" He stopped, bit his lip.

"Although..?" she prompted.

He sighed. "I wouldn't want to go anywhere near the Boulevard St Michel," he said. He looked away, not wanting to explain any further, and headed the conversation in a different direction: "Surely it could not have been too many years ago that you were there? You look far too young for it to have been before the war in Europe, surely?" Remembering why he was there, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm forgetting my chores," he said, heading for the door. Carrying in the rest of the boxes, he placed them in the corner furthest from the holes in the walls, while Kyung Soon busied herself with the cognac and kimchi. She rummaged in one of the boxes and found a tin of artichoke hearts and some paté – as well as a can-opener. By the time Charles had emptied the jeep, she had a small repast prepared on the cracked remains of her mother's best china plates, and had fetched what looked like a milking stool in from the yard.

"I am sorry, I have only one chair," she explained, gesturing toward it.

"No, no, you take the chair, my dear, I'll make do with – er – this," said Charles, eyeing the stool warily before carefully lowering himself onto it.

Kyung Soon giggled. "Perhaps you had better have some cognac," she said, handing him a glass, "A few sips of good brandy and you won't care that that is not an armchair!"

Charles raised his glass to hers. "To you," he said, "_**May you keep well and stay safe**_."

"Thank you," she said, sipping the liquor and setting down her glass. "Tomorrow I travel to Seoul," she said, "I need to find out what is to happen with the land – whether anyone will help clear the mines, and how long it will take; whether we will ever be able to farm again without fear, and if we cannot… how we are expected to live."

"And you'll be seeing Captain Pierce while you're there?" said Charles.

"I hope I will," she said, passing him the kimchi. "If only to say a final goodbye."

* * *

The jeep squealed to a halt outside the Hotel which Kyung Soon had recommended to Charles. With a sigh of relief he climbed out, and helped Margaret move from the back seat to the front passenger side.

"Sure you're not going to stay here?" he asked, "Kyung Soon said it was used by the top brass, and all the rooms are en suite."

"Charles, I can't afford this!" she said, "The army quarters will be fine, it's what I'm used to after all."

"Well, if you're sure…." A uniformed flunkey from the Hotel came over, and Charles told him which cases to take from the back of the vehicle, before turning his attention back to Margaret. "You know where to find me," he said, "Don't you dare leave town without saying goodbye."

"Likewise," she said, with an affectionate smile. With a wink, she added, "See you around, soldier," and told the driver to "Move it out, Corporal."

* * *

Charles stood for a moment watching her go, then turned and followed the porter into the Hotel lobby.

Charles took a very long soak in a tub filled to the brim with hot, soapy water, had a pot of real coffee delivered to his room, and stretched out on the sofa for a couple of hours to revel in the sheer luxury of being able to read in peace. He toyed with the idea of having dinner sent up, but decided he might as well put his uniform back on and try the dining-room, and was pleased that he had when he walked into the restaurant and saw Kyung Soon sitting alone at one of the tables. She was wearing a pale peach suit and wore her hair up. He thought it looked very fetching.

"Perhaps you would ask the lady over there if she would mind my joining her?" he said to the waiter who came over to seat him.

He could see Kyung Soon nod her assent, and crossed the room to pull up a chair opposite her.

"I have only just ordered," she said.

"Then I'll make it easy," said Charles to the waiter, "I'll have the same."

Kyung Soon smiled. "But you don't even know what's on the menu!."

He shrugged. "You are a lady with impeccable taste, how can I do worse than follow your lead? Did you order any wine to go with it?"

"No. I don't like drinking by myself."

He handed her the wine list. "Since you know what we just ordered, perhaps you'd better choose?"

She did so, and he nodded his approval of her choice, an excellent French red of distinctive vintage.

"You know your wine too," he said.

"Of course. How could I spend two years in France and not learn something about their best export?"

"I'll drink to that – when it arrives," said Charles, "But tell me, didn't you find Captain Pierce? I would have expected you to be dining with him."

Kyung Soon looked away, and fiddled with the stem of her wine glass. "I found him," she said, with a sigh, "At the hospital, just like you said. He was talking to another doctor – a lady doctor. She was blonde – foreign, I think. I heard him call her 'Inga'."

"Ah."

"You know her?"

"She… visited the 4077th for a few days last year."

"And got to know Hawkeye?"

He gave an apologetic shrug. "So rumour had it. I'm sorry."

"Yes, I thought so. Hawkeye looked sorry too, when he saw me – once he stopped looking panic-stricken that is." The waiter arrived with the wine, and she waited while it was served before resuming. "It was only for an instant – but I could see that for a moment he was expecting me to hold him to some promise he never made. And I knew that he had forgotten all about me and moved on. It was strange though – I found that I did not really mind." She smiled at Charles, shyly. "Not as much as I think I would have minded a few days ago anyway."

Charles returned her smile, delighted to discover that she liked him too. Then he sighed. "I wish I had a couple of weeks to get to know you better." He shook his head. "Just my luck, I spend two years in the purgatory of a war zone, and just as I'm about to leave I meet someone who might have made those years more bearable, if only we'd met sooner."

"How long before you leave?" she asked.

"I haven't had my papers come through yet," he said, "But I'm sure it will only be a matter of a few days. In any case, won't you be going back to your own home before then?"

She tilted her head as though considering her answer. "I think perhaps it will take longer to sort out the paperwork for my estate than I originally thought," she said, "Maybe even several days."

Charles smiled, and lifted his glass in a toast. "To bureaucracy," he said.

* * *

"I wish you could have seen the city before the war," said Kyung Soon, taking Charles' arm as they walked along Seoul's main street the following morning. "It was a lively, happy place, lots of shops, a theatre, cinemas." She pointed to a ruined building on the corner. "I used to go to concerts in there."

"I'm afraid it does rather bear the scars," said Charles. The allies had retaken Seoul from the North two years ago but he could see that more than buildings had been destroyed by the fighting. Everywhere there were signs of an economy in ruins – boarded-up shops, smashed windows, shanty houses leaning precariously against the walls of what had once been much grander structures. Children swarmed around allied soldiers begging for money and food, offering shoe-shines for pennies - or, worse, offering themselves. A half-dozen or so grubby urchins scrambled in front of him now, pushing each other out of the way, vying for his attention, squawking in broken English. Charles resisted the urge to empty his pockets of coins. If he gave money to these, they would be replaced by a dozen more equally pathetic youngsters, and a score more after that.

"They need more than money," said Kyung Soon, as though reading his thoughts.

He nodded. "I know."

Their walk had taken them down to the river. It should have been a sight to lift the heart, a ribbon of silver and blue with lush greenery on the far bank, boats bobbing on the water and sea birds crying overhead. But the broken remains of the bridges that had once spanned it served only as another reminder of battle and bloodshed. On the bank beneath the nearest bridge, Charles could see women washing clothes in the river, hear babies wailing, and smell the smoke from the camp-fires over which tiny fish, and what might have been the odd rat, were cooking. To his surprise, Kyung Soon called to one of the men on the riverbank and waved.

"His name is Kwa Fong," she said, "Before the war, he ran an electrical shop in Pyongyang. But it is in the north, and he does not want to go back. He would like to start again in Seoul, but he does not have money even to feed his family. How is he to start a business? And there are hundreds - no, thousands - like him. They want to work. They want to provide for their families. But they do not know where to start."

Charles looked at her, quizzically. "Kyung Soon, did you bring me here deliberately?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Her expression was all innocence. "Of course not! What good would it do to break the heart of a rich American with sob stories about poor Korean families?" she replied, "I wish I could help them more myself, but almost all I have left is my land, and even that it not worth much until I know it is safe. All I can offer is a little food and shelter for a few of these poor people who can help me work the soil," she added, before bending down to say a few words in Korean to one of the children still standing nearby looking hopeful.

He sighed. "Kyung Soon..." He gestured at the ramshackle boards and boxes that served as shelters, spread like a so much litter along the riverbank. "The whole of Korea is like this! It's going to need..." He stopped, suddenly understanding, seeing the opportunity Kyung Soon was showing him. "It's going to need millions," he finished, quietly.

"Yes," she agreed, "But it would be an investment in hard-working, intelligent people who will one day repay you tenfold."

"Or more," said Charles, already multiplying figures in his head. He smiled. "Alright, Kyung Soon, you win. I suppose you have a nice little shop in a good location all picked out for Kwa Fong too, don't you?"

She giggled. "Well, now you mention it..."

* * *

When they arrived back at the hotel, there were messages waiting for Charles at the reception desk.

"It's from Margaret," he said, reading the first one, "Uh, Major Houlihan I mean. Her papers came through, she's leaving..." He glanced at the clock, "Good Lord, in an hour! Trust the Army - make you wait years, and then don't give you time to pack! I'm sorry, Kyung Soon, I'll have to skip our lunch. May I buy you dinner later instead?"

"Of course. But perhaps you should check your other message before you rush off? Maybe her flight has been cancelled!"

"Ha! Wouldn't surprise me in the..." He stopped speaking as the message's contents sank in, then re-read it, twice. "I can go home," he said, "The day after tomorrow." He closed his eyes, letting the relief wash over him - then opened them to see Kyung Soon's face and realised it would be harder to leave than he had imagined it would be just a few days ago.

She ducked her head. "You had better get your taxi if you want to get to the airfield," she said, reminding him that he was supposed to be finding Margaret to say his farewells.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, promised to see her later and recrossed the lobby to find some transport, wondering why he had to remind himself that he was happy to be going home soon.

* * *

At the airfield, Charles found Margaret sitting on her case, surrounded by solicitous junior officers. When she smiled at him and stood up, they all made their excuses and left.

"Would you like me to call them back and explain that I'm just a friend?" he asked, picking up her case.

She laughed and linked an arm through his. "A very good friend," she said, "And I was glad to be rescued." Slowly, they headed toward the exit doors to where Margaret's plane was waiting.

"Where's Pierce, isn't he here?" said Charles, looking around, "I can't believe he wouldn't come to see you off – especially after that kiss he gave you."

"Yeah, well, that was supposed to be 'goodbye'," said Margaret, "But I must admit I thought he'd be here too. Do you suppose he got the time wrong?"

"Possibly," said Charles, though he doubted it. There were plenty of things he could fault Pierce on, but timekeeping wasn't usually one of them. "You have a few minutes yet though – I expect he'll turn up at the last possible moment. You know how he likes to make an entrance."

"Just so long as he's alright," said Margaret, "If he doesn't show, will you check on him for me? Make sure he's okay?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Thanks, Charles."

Her flight was being boarded and a sergeant with a clipboard was yelling for everyone on his list to get on the plane. Charles handed Margaret the case. "Got your book?" he asked.

"Course I have – right in here." She tapped the case, then dropped it and threw her arms around his neck. "Thanks for everything," she said, her voice sounding choked.

"You too," he said, hugging her tight and not trusting himself to attempt anything more than a whisper. "Take care of yourself, Margaret."

He felt her lips brush his cheek, and he let her go. "Got my address?" he called, as she picked up her case and started across the tarmac.

She looked back. "I don't need it," she called back, "You're in the Boston Yellow Pages, right?"

When she got to the bottom of the steps, she turned around one last time, and Charles snapped her the smartest salute he could muster. She returned it, added a wave, and climbed into the plane.

Charles watched it taxi, take off, circle and climb. "Bye Margaret," he said.

* * *

From the airfield, Charles made his way to the Military Hospital and found an orderly with his feet up on the reception desk, his nose buried in a magazine which, from what Charles could see of it, Pierce would heartily approve of.

"When you've quite finished stoking your libido, Private," said Charles, revelling in the effect his rank insignia had around here, and hoping his enjoyment didn't show on his face, "I need to see Captain Pierce. Is he here?"

"Ummm. Major. Sir!" The orderly dropped his magazine, stood up and began to riffle through the paperwork on his desk. "That would be Doctor Pierce?"

"The same."

"He's in OR, sir. Right along the corridor and..."

"I know where it is, thank you. I also know I cannot just wander in there." He tugged on his left lapel to show the medical insignia. "See? Doctor!"

"Uh, yessir, Major. I just thought..."

"Obviously not your strong point. When Captain Pierce emerges from the Operating Room, tell him that Major Winchester would like to see him. I'll be in the Library till seventeen-hundred hours."

"Yes, sir."

"And..." Charles leaned across the desk a little, letting the orderly know he'd seen the non-regulation reading matter, "Don't forget."

"No, sir! I'll let him know right away sir, as soon as he's finished!"

Charles nodded, satisfied that the man would not let his attention stray until after he'd delivered the message, and went across the compound to the Base's little Library. He found a copy of 'Stars and Stripes' he hadn't read and had got as far as page five when the paper was snatched out of his hands and a grinning Hawkeye said: "What the hell did you do to Thompson? I've never seen him gibber before!"

Charles shrugged. "You mean the dis-Orderly at the desk over there? Bright lad - he and I reached an understanding in no time!"

"You mean you pulled rank on him."

"Well, it's such a pleasure to be able to make my rank count for something," said Charles, with a chuckle, getting to his feet, "I won't have it for much longer anyway, and God knows I didn't get much use out of it at the 4077th."

By unspoken agreement, they headed for the Officers' Club, and Charles waited until they'd ordered their drinks and found a seat before he said: "Didn't you get Margaret's message?"

"Sure! Her papers came through, she leaves lunchtime tomorrow," said Hawkeye, "What about it?"

"Today."

"Today what?"

Charles sipped his cognac while he tried to decide whether Pierce was genuinely mistaken or merely in some sort of denial. He couldn't tell. "Today she left," he said, "She is presently about halfway to Honolulu I should think."

"You wha... She got on a plane?"

"No, of course not, she's swimming there!"

"Don't fool with me Charles, you're kidding me, aren't you? She hasn't really gone! She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye!"

"She said goodbye, Pierce - to me." He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed his mouth. "Hope I got all the lipstick off," he teased.

Hawkeye thumped the table, making the drinks shake. "Dammit! I've been in OR most of the day, but I could have gotten over to the airfield...I really missed her, this isn't one of your stupid jokes?"

"My jokes are never stupid, and in any case this isn't one of them." Charles sat back, cradling his drink. "She made me promise to come and find you and make sure you were alright. I expect she thought you might be face down in the mud outside this place or something."

"I'll write and thank her for her concern," said Hawkeye, dryly.

"Well you did get a goodbye kiss, Pierce, you can hardly complain!" said Charles, "And if you'd got on the plane you were scheduled to fly out on, you'd have been home by now anyway."

Hawkeye acknowledged the first comment with a grin, then flapped a hand when Charles mentioned going home. "There's still work to be done here," he said, "Know who I was operating on today? Children. Kids who've been playing in the wide-open spaces we left for them around here - otherwise known as minefields. I can't..." He shook his head and took a slug of drink. "It's all such a mess," he finished, quietly.

"You can't rescue them all," said Charles. "And what about your father? What does he think of your staying out here?"

Hawkeye glared at him, as though angry that Charles had dared bring his father into this; then his gaze softened a little and he nodded. "I didn't tell him I was due back last week. I've got a seat on another plane next week and he's meeting me off of that one. Of course I want to go home, Charles it's just..." He flung out his arms, helplessly. "There's so much to do here. We've thrown an entire country into chaos and now we're all just leaving these poor people to tidy up after us. That might not bother you, but it sure as hell bothers me!"

"Of course it bothers me, Pierce, but there are other ways of helping that don't involve hanging around this hellhole any longer than I have to," retorted Charles, stung. "My plane leaves here at 10 o'clock on Thursday, and I intend to be on it. Nothing on earth would induce me to stay here one minute more than I must!"

"Well don't expect me to be there to wave _you_ off," said Hawkeye.

Charles drained his cognac and stood up. "I wouldn't wave to you if you _were_ there," he said. "And you'll have to excuse me now, Pierce - I've got a date."

He set down the drink and turned to go, then turned back as he heard a call of "Charles, wait!" Quietly, Hawkeye added: "Safe journey, okay?"

Charles nodded, understanding that Pierce had known those whose journey hadn't ended happily. "You too," he said, "And... give my regards to your father."

* * *

"It looks like Hawkeye is going to miss your leaving too," said Kyung Soon, looking around the airfield terminal.

"I think he really hates goodbyes," said Charles, putting his case down on the tarmac and turning to take both her hands in his, "So do I."

"Then we should say 'adieu', as they do in France," suggested Kyung Soon. They looked at each other for a long moment; then she said, "Will you write me?"

"Yes, I will. And maybe – once you've got your property sorted out here, you'll come visit me in Boston?" he suggested.

"I would like that – very much," she said, with unmistakable sincerity, her fingers squeezing his. "Bon voyage, Charles."

Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her, with a hopeless, passionate longing he could feel being returned as she pressed against him and pulled him closer.

"Major? Sir – sorry, sir."

Charles pulled away from Kyung Soon with deep reluctance and glared at the sergeant who had brought him back to reality.

"Sorry to break it up, sir, but your plane's ready to leave," said the man, with an apologetic shrug.

Charles nodded, turned back to Kyung Soon, touched his palm to her cheek. "_**'The wind blows out candles but kindles fires'**_," he said, softly, and gave her a last, gentle kiss before picking up his case. "Adieu," he said, backing away.

"I will see you in Boston," she called, putting up a hand to wave.

Charles reminded himself that he was going home – home! – turned, and walked away.

* * *

Kyung Soon watched him climb the steps into the plane, waved as he turned one last time to throw her a salute. She didn't want to see his plane leave, and turned to go – only to find herself looking straight at Hawkeye Pierce, who was standing by the doorway.

"Oh," she said, wondering if he'd seen…

"Yeah – oh," he replied, his demeanour telling her he had. He gestured toward the taxi-ing plane. "Didn't even see me, did he? Not that I blame him."

"Hawkeye – I'm sorry. I…"

"It's okay." A sigh. "I've been squiring Inga Halvorsen around town for the last fortnight, I can hardly complain about _you_ finding somebody else. It just gave me kind of a shock seeing you kissing Charles as though you wanted to climb into his uniform with him." She giggled, blushing, and he smiled at her, a little sheepishly. "Actually, now I think about it, you're perfect for each other. If I'd known Charles better when I first met you, I might even have introduced you. Uh, no – scratch that, no I wouldn't. 'Cause then I wouldn't have got to know you, and that would truly have been my loss."

"Thank you Hawkeye."

He proferred his arm and she took it as they strolled through the terminal.

"Can I buy you a drink? Or lunch maybe?" he suggested.

She shook her head. "Thank you. But I must go back to my hotel and finish my packing," she said, "I have already stayed longer than I should. Now I must go home too."

"I'll see you safe back to the hotel then," said Hawkeye, steering her over to a double-parked jeep and helping her climb in, "Then I guess I'll have to say goodbye too." He grinned. "Be nice to actually manage to catch someone in time to say it, for once!"

He chatted while they drove, but Kyung Soon's thoughts were at 20,000 feet, and she was only half-listening to him.

"Please – don't come inside," she begged, when he pulled up outside the hotel, "I do not think I could bear another long goodbye. Just… just let me wave you off as though I will see you again tomorrow. Please."

Hawkeye leaned across and placed a kiss against her cheek. "If you're ever in New England," he said, "And I think perhaps you will be - you be sure to come say hi, okay?"

"I promise," she said, "Thank you, Hawkeye. You were such a good friend when I needed one, and I will never forget that."

She jumped down from the jeep and blew him a kiss. Tears blurred her vision as he drove away, but she waved anyway, hoping he could see better than she could. Then she wiped her eyes, blew her nose and made her way up to her room, telling herself to focus on the job in hand instead of wondering how far Charles' plane had gone by now. When she opened the door to her suite, she thought for a second that she had got the wrong room, for it was not exactly the way she had left it. On the coffee table in the middle of the room, and on the dining table by the far wall, were huge bouquets of flowers. Next to the vase on the coffee table was a square package, wrapped in shiny paper and ribbons. Only her name was inscribed on the card – though she knew that the writing was Charles'.

Sitting down, she drew the package onto her knee, untied the ribbons and unwrapped it. In the box sat a brand new tape recorder, a tape already set on the spools, and another note that said simply: 'Play me!'

Throwing the packaging aside, Kyung Soon found a wall socket and plugged the machine in, clicked the main switch to 'on'.

_"My dear Kyung Soon_," said Charles' voice, "_I trust the Hotel staff have delivered the flowers by now, and hope that you like them. I can't tell you how wonderful these past few days with you have been. Suffice it to say that, thanks to you, my memories of your country will not be entirely unhappy. I hope that we will be able to maintain our friendship, even though we'll be thousands of miles apart – and that you'll make use of this recorder to play the messages I intend to send you, and perhaps record some of your own to send to me. By the time you get home, there will be a generator in the shed, and Kwa Fong assures me that the wiring in your house will be finished within the next day or so. It's my parting gift to you. I'm not sorry to be going home, Sooni, but I am sorry to be leaving you behind.  
I can only hope that one day, in the not too distant future, I will see you again. Until then – adieu."_

The tape ran off the spool and Kyung Soon switched off the player and wiped her eyes again. Once – it seemed a lifetime ago – Hawkeye had said they should write to each other; then he had snatched back the idea almost before it was made, as being a hopeless gesture, not worth the making.

But this time, she thought, getting up and moving across to admire the flowers on the side-table – perhaps this time she had found someone who truly meant what he said.

**To be continued..**


	2. Exchanges

**Part Two**

_**Kyung Soon to Charles: tape 3, October 1953**_

_Dear Charles  
Thank you so much for your latest tape. I am glad to hear that your new job is going well, but I hope you are not working too hard. After the hours you all put in at the MASH unit, you should be enjoying your evenings, and weekends off.  
I am sorry that it is still so painful for you to listen to music, I know from listening to you talk that you have such knowledge and love of it, and as much as it hurts to hear it, you must miss it very much. Perhaps you could try something totally different to Mozart's quintet - I was listening to the wonderful recording you gave me of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony yesterday. It is so uplifting and joyful, perhaps it might be the sort of piece that would help you find you way back to other music?  
Progress with the land here is slow - it cannot be otherwise when my workers know that a false step might kill or maim them. The landmines are everywhere, and almost every day there are news reports of more injuries and deaths. The war may be over, but I'm afraid it is still taking lives. At least we have managed to clear and plough enough land near the house to plant a few winter cabbages, and peppers for next year.  
Also, the road to my family's burial ground has been cleared at last, so tomorrow I go to honour my ancestors. It is Korean tradition to do this in August, but at least I am able to pay my respects in person this year, even if it is a little late. Last year I was too far away to visit - I had to make do with carrying out the ceremony from a distance, and hope my ancestors would understand. For the past few days I have been preparing special food in readiness, and cleaning the house. Usually that duty is shared between all the family members, but there is no family left here to share it with me, so I have done it all myself. Tomorrow I will make a formal little bow to my ancestors' memorials, wish them good fortune, and tell them what is happening in my life. I will tell them all about you, and ask themto look on you with kindness.  
Each time I go to Seoul, it is a little more like the city I used to know. The concert hall is being rebuilt, and the plans for some of the bomb-damaged sites look very ambitious. There will be big office blocks and department stores, warehouses and factories - though there is still so much that needs to be done. I do not know how much of this new investment we owe to you, or to people you have persuaded to follow your lead, but I want you to know that the help you are sending is so much appreciated, and is already doing a lot of good.  
There is food in the shops again and, although the prices are still outrageous, at least we will not starve, especially since you sent all those tins of meat and vegetables. The hens are laying well too. Oh, I gave the chocolates you sent to the children at the orphanage and of course they loved them. Father Mulcahy said to send his thanks and his regards. His hearing is no better, but he has hearing aids now and manages quite well, though he finds it easier if he is facing you when you speak.  
Thank you so much for the books. I loved the poetry selection, and I thought the first verse of _Kipling's Cities, Thrones and Powers _was especially apt:_

'_Cities and Thrones and Powers  
Stand in Time's eye,  
Almost as long as flowers,  
Which daily die:  
But, as new buds put forth  
To glad new men,  
Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth  
The Cities rise again.'_

_Goodbye for now, Charles - with my love._

Charles switched off the tape recorder and sat back in his study chair, listening to the silence. He found he was doing that a lot these days, since he had moved out of his parents' house and into his town apartment. The excuse he'd given was that it was more convenient for the hospital - which was true, though only to the tune of about five minutes - but the reality was that there had been too much music at home. His mother spent hours practicing for her next concert; Honoria played her record player down the hall; and his father liked listening to the evening concerts on the radio. Charles had found it impossible to explain why he could no longer listen with them, and could hardly ask that the entire house be plunged into silence to suit him. So he had acquired a chef, a butler and a housekeeper for his apartment, and moved.

He missed the music though. Kyung Soon was right: as much as it pained him to listen to it, he missed hearing it.

He sighed. Beethoven's Ninth. He hadn't tried that one, and maybe she had a point - the last movement was, after all, called 'Ode to Joy'. Maybe he'd give it a try.

* * *

_**Charles to Kyung Soon: tape 7, November 1953**_

_My dear Sooni  
I so enjoyed your latest tape and all your news. Father Mulcahy must be delighted to have your help with the children's choir, and I do hope the rehearsals for the Christmas carols are going well.  
We just had Thanksgiving here, my first with the family in four years. Mother and dad invited all the cousins and aunts and Emersons in New England, I think – certainly there was not much space left at the table by the time we were all seated. It was quite an occasion!_

Charles paused the tape, thinking back to the event he was describing and wondering what to say next. Somehow, he felt that reciting the details of seven exquisite courses of rich food to Kyung Soon would not be appropriate; nor would telling her that it had been served up on the best silverware – heirlooms from his mother's side of the family. As for the conversation, he could recall nothing that had been said that was worthy of repetition.

He sighed. He had been so looking forward to Thanksgiving at home, after three years away and two years of MASH swill, but somehow it had felt… strange, off-kilter. Charles had found himself looking around at the wealthy, laughing socialites, and wondering whether their conversations had always been so vapid. He had vague recollections of Cousin Alfred gleefully describing some _faux pas_ that had been made on his last shooting weekend; Honoria and the other young women had discussed the latest fashions, and the charms of some film star named Marlon something-or-other. Of course, there had been polite comments on how glad Charles must be to be back in civilisation, and half-hearted queries about how his new job at Boston Mercy was going, but even as he replied he knew that their attention had already slipped elsewhere, that no-one really wanted to know. Realising that that was how he used to deal with people himself had not made it any easier - nor had the knowledge that he could never change back, that he would never again truly fit into the way of life he had left behind.

He sipped the tea the butler had brought in, and thumbed the 'record' switch again.

_I won't bore you with the details of the main meal, but I would like you to know that, once the women had withdrawn and the men were left to the Port and cigars, I did mention once again the opportunities for investment in your country. I'm not sure that anyone listened, but I did try.  
At least the evening gave me an excuse to finish the film that had been in my camera since I got back from Seoul. As promised, I am enclosing the photograph you took of me on our last walk together, as well as a picture of your lovely self, of which – I hope you don't mind - I have had a copy enlarged and framed to keep on my office desk.  
I am going along to one of mother's piano recitals on Saturday next, with Honoria for company - and support if I need it. You know I had tried to tell her about… what happened, and had never been able to? I finally resorted to writing it down, as though I were still in Korea. I put it all in a letter for her and posted it. She came over of course just as soon as she'd read it, and once we had both finished crying she promised to help me in any way that she could. We've listened to a few recordings together these past few days, but the recital will be a real test, and I'm glad I'll have her there with me.  
I have already put a few Christmas parcels in the post for you, plus an extra one which is for the orphanage. Please make sure that they do not know it's from me – I know how highly you value tradition, and this is one of my family's finer ones: that at Christmas we make our charitable donations anonymously.  
I will endeavour to be in touch again before Christmas, Sooni, but in case the mail lets me down please know that I will be thinking of you over the festive season, and very much wishing you could be here with me.  
Perhaps next year I will see you again, my dear. But meanwhile, I look forward to receiving your next tape and hearing your news.  
With my love, always,  
Charles._

* * *

_**Kyung Soon to Charles: tape 14, February 1954**_

_My dear Charles,  
I'm sure you will remember how cold it gets here in February, and this year seems to be even worse than usual. I am so glad, and so grateful, that I have the generator, which provides enough power for a small electric fire as well as the lighting. It does not sound much, I know, but we all stay together in one room during the very bad storms, so we all stay warm and dry._

Charles smiled, wondering how his parents would react to the idea of settling down for the night in the same room as the servants. Or, indeed, in the same room as anyone else. He still was not entirely sure that they had grasped the idea that he had had to share a tent on equal terms with two subordinates during his time at the 4077th. To hear them talk about it, the Captains might have been Charles' staff officers, there to attend his every need. Charles chuckled, wondering how Pierce and Hunnicutt would have reacted to that idea!

Funny, he missed them. All of them. The banter, the jokes, the repartee. Above all, he missed the understanding – that unspoken bond that had been formed by their common battle to wrest life from the jaws of premature death, the camaraderie that had grown from the shared suffering they lived through.

He pulled his attention back to the tape, rewinding it a little to make sure he had missed nothing.

_The orphanage too is well supplied. Father Mulcahy is fond of saying that 'God provides – but it's amazing how often he sends parcels from California, Missouri, and New England!' The children are very excited about singing at the concert hall's reopening, and I go to help with rehearsals when I can. They are going to sing some traditional Korean songs, and I will take my tape recorder along to the concert so that you will be able to hear their performance. Of course, it will not be up to the standard of your mother's Rachmaninov concert on the tape you sent me last month, but what the children lack in skill they more than make up for in enthusiasm!  
There is so much still to do, and I sometimes wish that all those reporters and cameras that were here during the fighting were still around to film the consequences – the orphans, the sick, those who lost limbs…_

Charles heard her sigh, and the tape spooled on silently for a moment before she went on:

_I know that your family has influential friends, Charles, and that you have spoken to many of them already. But if you know of anyone who can help us to spread the message that there are still many thousands of people here needing assistance and aid, please put in another word when you can. I know from your tapes, and the cuttings you send, that a lot of people seem to have forgotten the war already. That is not so easy to do over here._

Nor from where I'm sitting, thought Charles. But he knew she was right. In fact he suspected that many Americans had barely been aware of the conflict even when it had been at its height – certainly there had been no ticker-tape parades for homecoming troops, like the ones he remembered seeing at the end of the Second World War.

If only he could think of a way to bring home to people the impact of what the Korean 'police action' had been!

And then he remembered Clete Roberts, and smiled.

**To be continued…**


	3. Reunions

**Part three**

**September 1954**

"Charles, what's keeping you? The car's w…waiting. You know you have to leave now if you're going to get to the airport in time." Honoria braced her hands on her hips, staring from her brother to the pile of discarded shirts, ties and jackets on the bed. "Criminy, don't tell me you're still deciding what to wear! What are you, a d..d…debutante? What was wrong with your b..b..blazer and tie?"

"It looked like I was going to a meeting with the Polo Club Committee."

"Your s…s…sports jacket then?"

"Didn't look right with a tie."

"Your grey suit?"

"Too formal."

"Your check shirt?"

"Too casual."

She gave a strangled scream of exasperation. "Have you d…decided for sure on those grey s…slacks, or are you just wearing those as a s…stop-gap?" she asked.

He shrugged, and she realised she'd have to decide for him or they might well be here for the rest of the afternoon. "Right," she said, moving across to the bed and riffling through the pile of clothes, "Keep those on, p…put this on-" she thrust a pale blue cotton shirt at him, "-forget the tie, put your b…blue cravat on and this jacket. I'll go and w..wait in the car." She paused in the doorway, looked back at him. "I'm sure she w…won't mind w…what you're wearing," she assured him, "If she's as nice as she sounds on those tapes."

* * *

Charles shifted from foot to foot as he scanned the lines of people coming through Arrivals, but he heard the children before he saw them – a tide of high-pitched chatter and excited shrieks resonating from the back of the crowd. He saw Father Mulcahy first, who smiled and waved from the head of a line of youngsters who were walking two-by-two, holding hands, and shepherded by a half-dozen nuns – and Kyung Soon.

Seeing Charles, she hurried forward, ahead of the line, and took his outstretched hands for a moment before moving closer and putting her arms around him as he drew her into a welcoming hug. "I can't believe you're really here," he said, "It's so good to see you again!"

"And I am happy to see you, Charles," she said, pulling back to smile up at him, "Thank you so much for helping to arrange all this."

"I hope your choristers haven't caused too much mayhem on the plane?" he said, looking over her head at the youngsters.

She giggled, shook her head. "No, no. They are excited of course, but they have been very good – mostly!"

By now, Father Mulcahy had caught up to them, and Charles kept his left arm across Kyung Soon's shoulders while extending his right for the priest to seize and shake.

"It's wonderful to see you again!" said Mulcahy, pumping Charles' hand up and down, "Charles, I cannot thank you enough for organising this!"

"Oh, I just knew the right ears to murmur into," said Charles, "But I'm glad they were listening!"

He supposed it had helped that the reporters he had initially contacted had been in Korea themselves, and so had some empathy with his line of reasoning. But it had been pleasantly surprising to have the TV companies agree to cover one of the choir's concerts while they were in Boston. Combined with Clete Roberts' planned interview with Kyung Soon, there was every chance that by the time they had finished, more thousands of American dollars would be heading toward South Korea.

"Come on," he said, reclaiming his hand from Mulcahy and picking up Kyung Soon's suitcase, "There's a bus waiting right outside for the children. Let's get you all to your hotel."

* * *

"… and by the time I'd managed to get the engine started, they were shooting at us! But, thankfully, they were far too drunk to hit anything, and once we were out of range, Charles opened his door and yelled 'Remember the Boston Tea Party!'" Father Mulcahy, sitting with Kyung Soon and Charles in the Hotel lounge, laughed as he finished his tale, and took a sip from his coffee. He had been in Boston for over a week now, rehearsing the children for their concert and television performance, giving an interview to Clete Roberts, and discussing arrangements for the Charity Dinner and Dance that Charles had organised for the coming Saturday evening. It was good to find the time to sit and relax for a while, and satisfying to see the relationship between Kyung Soon and Charles Winchester continuing to develop.

She had put her hand on Charles' as Mulcahy had spun his story, and it was Charles she looked at as she said: "It was brave of you both to go back like that when you knew they had guns."

"It was crass stupidity, fuelled by desperation," said Charles, with a chuckle, "And I for one was frightened half to death when the Father here couldn't get the truck to start." He helped himself to another cookie from the plateful in the middle of the table and nibbled a corner of it before he added: "It felt good though, once it was all over. Even if it did cost me my polar suit!"

"It could have cost you your neck if you'd fallen off the running-board," said Mulcahy, injecting a note of rebuke into his voice. "Then I'd have been in trouble with Colonel Potter for losing him a surgeon!"

Charles' laugh was genial. "But you'd have got the penicillin, Father, are you sure he wouldn't have considered it a fair swap?"

Mulcahy pretended to consider for a moment, and put down his cup. "There were times, Charles, when we would probably _all_ have considered it a fair swap – but then, the same can be said about everyone who was there. Everyone had moments when they behaved like complete imbeciles – and I include myself in that statement – but…" His smile faded and his voice grew more serious "… who could go through all that and not have irrational moments? The stupidity of it all, the waste…" He stopped, gave an apologetic shrug as he remembered he was preaching to the converted. "We all cared, and we all cared about each other," he said, "And don't try to deny it, Charles, I know you better than that! Why, just the way you've helped organise this whole trip tells me how much the children's plight has touched you. And for you to invite Major Houlihan and Hawkeye along for the weekend's events, you must have kept their addresses."

"Well, Sooni here insisted," said Charles, smiling down at her. He turned his hand under hers, and their fingers laced together as their arms rested on the table. "Oh, and it's Lieutenant Colonel Houlihan now, Father – though I'm sure she won't mind your calling her Margaret, as the rest of us do."

"A promotion! How wonderful, and how very deserved," said Mulcahy, "Remind me, who is it she's bringing to the Dinner and Dance?"

"General Douglas Heiser," said Charles, "She's known him for a while, I think."

"I look forward to meeting him," said Mulcahy, sincerely, "Will he be coming on Friday – to the reunion meal I mean?"

Charles had suggested that they get together with Margaret and Hawkeye for dinner on Friday, before the formalities of the Charity Dinner where they would, in any case, be sitting at separate tables to help 'spread the word'. Mulcahy was looking forward to their getting together again more than anything else on this entire trip.

"Margaret said he has some old friends of his own to look up while he's in town," said Charles, "But he'll be coming on Saturday, of course, so we'll be able to meet him then."

"And what about Hawkeye?" said Mulcahy. He'd never been able to keep track of who Doctor Pierce was dating while they were in the same camp, he had no chance of knowing who might show up at the Dinner!

Charles shrugged. "I expect it will depend on who he's dating this week," he said, "At any rate, he said he'd think of someone to bring!"

* * *

Leaving Father Mulcahy to take the children through their singing itinerary once more, Charles drove Kyung Soon toward Beacon Hill. He had spent ten days showing her the sights of Boston, and to his delight she had loved everything - the museum, the harbour, the recital at Symphony Hall two nights ago, the restaurants he had taken her to, even the campus at Harvard.

This afternoon though he wanted to show her his home – or, rather, his parents' home, the place where he had grown up. Honoria had told him that Mother and Dad would both be out, so he would be able to show Sooni around without there being any added pressure from having to meet them both.

"We'll go up to the house in a few minutes," he said, turning off the drive onto a narrower track that wound to the top of the hill, "But I'd like to show off the view from here first." Stopping the car, he climbed out and hurried around to the passenger side to open Kyung Soon's door for her, taking her hand as she stepped out. "You can see practically all of Boston from here," he said. Pointing, he added, "Over there is Boston Mercy, you can just make out the clock tower, see?"

"It's a wonderful view!" she said, as he led her across to a nearby stone seat, "And the colours of those trees! Oh! I understand now why you were so passionate about autumn in New England in your tapes!"

Charles nodded, looking out over the trees to the city and the harbour gleaming beyond in the distance. "I'm glad you like it," he said, "Because…" He turned to look at her, tightening his hold on her hand and moving a little closer on the bench. "I wanted to ask you… that is, I know we have not spent much actual time together since we met, but I feel that through our correspondence I have come to know you well enough to ask if… Kyung Soon, I don't want you to go back to Korea with the orphans next week, I want you to stay here. With me. As my wife."

_That was possibly the most muddled phrase I have ever put together in my life_, he thought, _No wonder she's staring at me as though I'm out of my mind!_

A moment later though, her expression changed and he saw the smile, heard the little giggle he loved so much, and his hopes lifted.

"Charles, I… do not know what to say!" she said, so quietly he would not have heard had he not been sitting so close. "I have an estate of my own… responsibilities," she went on, making his heart sink. "And yet – I want very much to say 'yes'. I… I have come to care for you very much, Charles, I…"

He kissed her, softly and gently, just as he had each night when he'd taken her back to the door of her hotel. But this time, instead of saying "goodnight," when they parted, he murmured, "I love you."

She touched his cheek with her free hand as she gazed up at him, "I love you too…"

"Then please stay!" he said, catching her hand and kissing the palm, "Sooni, you'd be able to visit your homeland whenever you wanted to, I promise. We could visit the…the graves of your ancestors together next year if you'd like that. Just so long as you'll marry me!"

She looked away, but he could see she was smiling, and after another moment she turned back to meet his gaze again. "Do you suppose I can get the money back on my ticket?" she said.

* * *

It was strange, thought Charles, that after being back in Boston for over a year, he had not felt truly at home until now.

There were six of them around his dining-room table, four of them veterans of the 4077th. Pierce had brought along Amy Clark, the schoolteacher who had encouraged her class to write them while they were in Korea. "I feel I know you all already," she had said, when she had been introduced; while Pierce, of course, had made a point of emphasising that the two of them were 'just good friends'.

Margaret, sitting opposite Charles, was waxing lyrical about her General; Father Mulcahy, next to her, nodded and smiled over his coffee, as though he hadn't heard this sort of talk from Margaret before.

Hunnicutt and Colonel Potter were missing from the picture, but they had spoken on the telephone, and had each recorded an interview for the TV show the choir was going to appear on.

And then there was Klinger, of course. Charles had no idea where he might be. He wondered how Max would react if he ever found out that Charles too had fallen in love with a Korean girl.

Which brought Charles' gaze back to Kyung Soon, who was sitting on his left, laughing at some ridiculous joke Pierce had just told.

"You're not laughing, Charles," said Hawkeye, "Come on, that was _funny_!"

Charles gave him a stare. "As I recall, you and I have differed before on your definition of 'funny'," he said, "But on this occasion, I confess, my thoughts were simply elsewhere." He smiled at Kyung Soon. "Shall we tell them? I know you've been bursting to."

She needed no further encouragement. "Charles has asked me to marry him," she announced, without preamble, taking Charles' hand as she spoke.

There was an explosion of squeals, and cries of congratulation. Margaret jumped to her feet and rushed around the table to hug Kyung Soon and give Charles a kiss that rivalled the one she had once planted on him in the mess tent. He could hear Mulcahy saying "I was hoping you two would get together," and Amy offered quiet congratulations.

Charles found he was a little unsure what Pierce's reaction would be, but he need not have worried – Hawkeye leaned across to kiss Sooni's cheek and shook Charles' hand. "I told Kyung Soon back in Seoul that you were perfect for each other," he said, "I'm just glad you figured it out too!"

"Have you bought a ring yet?" asked Margaret, "Can we see?"

Charles shook his head. "I haven't introduced Sooni to my parents yet," he said, "They're coming to the Dinner tomorrow, but I want to wait till the two of us have lunch with them on Sunday to tell them our news. Once that's done, we can visit the jeweller on Monday and pick out something suitable for a Winchester-in-waiting."

Father Mulcahy silently raised his glass and in a moment the others had followed: "Charles and Kyung Soon," he said, "Wishing you love, peace and happiness always."

The glasses clinked. "I'll drink to that!" Hawkeye said.

* * *

Kyung Soon was glad Charles had already shown her around the Winchester residence. Otherwise she would have found it difficult not to stare around her while they lunched, and that would have been most ill-mannered.

As it was, she was able to concentrate on the delicious food and the polite conversation. A light salmon salad, accompanied with a light Sauvignan Blanc, had been followed by a delicious lemon sorbet, and a cup of Lapsang Souchong. She had been anxious about what to say, but the previous evening's Dinner and Dance had provided the initial source of discussion; and, once Kyung Soon had commended Mrs Winchester on her piano recordings, the conversation had become positively convivial.

She began to relax, glancing across the table at Charles for reassurance every now and then, and noticing that he too was looking much calmer than he had for the past few days. She smiled at him and when he winked back, she knew that things were going well, that he felt his parents liked her.

"Shall we adjourn to the drawing-room?" Mrs Winchester suggested, dabbing her mouth delicately with a linen napkin and getting to her feet.

"That would be nice," said Kyung Soon, "That is the room where…" She caught Charles' warning gaze in time, remembering that this was all supposed to be new to her, "…where you have a Canaletto, Charles tells me?"

"Indeed we do, my dear. You appreciate Art as well as music, then?" said Charles' father.

"Oh yes. When I was in Paris I spent as much time as I could in the Louvre."

"My, you _have_ travelled. When were you in Paris, Kyung Soon?"

They had reached the drawing-room, and Mrs Winchester indicated the sofa, inviting Kyung Soon to sit. "Oh, quite some time ago now," she replied, "But I hope to be going back soon..." She glanced up at Charles to make sure it was alright to continue, and she saw him nod, "…for my honeymoon," she finished, shyly.

"Oh, but how lovely!" exclaimed Mrs Winchester, "Charles, you didn't tell us Kyung Soon was engaged to be married! Congratulations, dear! Have you set a date?"

Kyung Soon looked at Charles, who was still standing next to her. He gave her a quick smile, then turned to his mother. "No, we haven't yet," he said.

Mrs Winchester's expression was a blank. "'We', Charles? What do you mean 'we'?"

Charles perched himself on the arm of the sofa, beside Kyung Soon and put a hand on her shoulder. "I mean that I'm the lucky man Sooni has consented to marry," he said.

There was a long silence while his parents looked at each other, then at Charles and Kyung Soon, then back at each other. Kyung Soon grew more and more uncomfortable, and she reached up a hand to Charles, felt him take it in his.

At long last, his mother spoke: "For Heaven's sake, Charles," she said, her voice dripping disapproval, "Don't be ridiculous."

**To be continued...**


	4. Smashed

**In Love and Peace**

**Part Four**

Charles knocked on Father Mulcahy's hotel room door. He knew Mulcahy would be expecting him – and Kyung Soon – as they had promised to call by on their return from lunch.

The door was flung open and there was a cheer from the people within – which died away the moment Charles stepped inside. Alone.

"Charles." He heard the concern in Mulcahy's voice as the priest took his arm and led him across to an armchair. "What _happened_, my son? You look _terrible_. And where is Kyung Soon? We thought she'd be here with you."

Charles took a couple of deep breaths, and a large swallow of the scotch that Margaret had wordlessly pressed into his hand. "I… um… I don't…" He drained the glass, waited while Margaret refilled it. "It was just awful," he said.

He couldn't bring himself to tell them any details, but the scenes replayed over and again in his head as he sipped the scotch. Mother had asked Sooni to wait in the Library while they "discussed a few things with Charles." He was glad Sooni had left the room though. If she had heard some of the things his parents had said, she would have been even more upset than she already was. What had really distressed him had been remembering the awful things he had written to Honoria about her Italian fiancé – and hearing those same remarks coming at him from his parents. In vain had Charles pointed out that Sooni had her own land, her own money, was descended from an ancient and respectable family. His parents were implacable in their opposition, and just before he had stormed out, Charles had voiced what they would not: "What you mean is, you don't want any half-Asian grandchildren!" he'd yelled, "Why don't you just _say_ it?"

Then he'd turned on his heel and stormed out, collecting Sooni from the Library en route.

Behind him, his mother had called: "If you marry her, Charles, you can forget about Boston Society, and you'll not come here again."

And Charles had shouted – dear God, he couldn't believe he had actually said it – "_Screw_ Boston Society!"

He gave a kind of choking half-laugh as he remembered, then realised his friends were still patiently waiting for him to explain. "My parents really liked her," he said, hefting the glass for a refill, "Right up to the part where we told them we're engaged to be married. Then everything fell apart." He looked across at Pierce. "Go on, tell me it serves me right, after the way I reacted to my sister's engagement."

Hawkeye shook his head. "You learned your lesson, Charles, and I know you apologised to Honoria." He made a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood. "Maybe we could try a grenade with your parents, what do you think? Uh, no, sorry – not funny, I know."

Amy spoke up. "You still haven't told us where Kyung Soon is, Charles."

"Oh. Yes. Sorry." He had another drink before continuing. "We had a long talk in the car, but she's still very upset and angry. She said…" He bit his lip. "She said that rather than cause me so much trouble, she would get the next flight home and we need never see each other again. I… didn't want her coming back here, within arm's reach of her passport, so I took her to my sister's apartment. I'll go back and talk to her again later, and in the meantime I hope that Honoria will be able to persuade her that I'm not the only Winchester who cares about her."

"I don't understand," said Doug Heisel, "Kyung Soon's a beautiful, intelligent, classy dame. What's to object to for Chri'sake? Uh – pardon me, Father."

Mulcahy waved away the apology while Hawkeye answered the question. "I guess Mr and Mrs Winchester just never expected their son would fall for a foreigner. Right Charles?"

He nodded, knowing that if he tried to say anything, the little self-control he had left would dissolve and he would start crying. He wasn't going to do that, not even in front of friends as good as these. Margaret had gone to sit back down on the sofa beside Doug, leaving the Scotch bottle on the table beside Charles, and he helped himself to another drink to give himself something to do.

When he felt he could trust himself to speak again, he put down the now-empty glass and got to his feet. "I'm sorry, I have to go back and find Sooni. I know you two are leaving early tomorrow," he said, glancing from Pierce to Margaret, "I'll – _we'll _– be at the airport to see you off. I don't think we'll be able to face the meal this evening though, if you don't mind."

"Charles, you just make sure you don't lose that gorgeous girl," said Margaret, standing up and kissing his cheek.

"Listen, we'll all be back for the wedding, okay?" said Pierce, shaking his hand and clapping him on the shoulder as Charles moved to the door.

If only it was as simple as Pierce made it sound, thought Charles. But… his parents' opinion mattered to him. _They_ mattered to him. How was he supposed to choose between them and Sooni? How could they ask him to?

While he fretted over the dilemma, Father Mulcahy had got to the door ahead of him. "Uh, Charles, you're not intending to drive to your sister's are you?" he asked.

"The Father's got a point," said Pierce. Before Charles could react, he'd pulled the car keys from Charles' coat pocket and thrown them to Margaret, who immediately dropped them down the front of her dress.

Charles glared from one to the other, though he knew they were right. "You don't play fair," he said.

"We never did!" laughed Hawkeye. "Go take a walk, it'll do you good. And we'll see you in the morning to give you your keys back. Right now, you've got more important things to sort out."

Charles nodded. "I'll see you all tomorrow then," he said, "Goodnight."

* * *

The doorbell rang just as Charles and Lilian Winchester were finishing their soup course.

"If that's _Doctor_ Charles come back," said Lilian to the butler, as the man exited to answer the door, "He can wait in the drawing-room. He knows what time we dine."

"Very well, madam."

"Really, I don't know what the army did to that boy, but he hasn't been the same since he got back from Korea," she tutted.

A moment later, the door opened and the butler returned. "Excuse me sir – madam – there's a police officer asking to see you both. I asked him to wait in the drawing-room."

"A police officer?" said Charles senior, "Did he say what he wanted?"

"Only that it was urgent, sir."

"Oh, for heaven's sake. What has he done now?" He threw down his napkin and proferred his arm for his wife to take as they followed the butler through to the drawing-room.

"Sir, ma'am – I'm Lieutenant Gianelli from Boston PD," said their visitor, flashing an ID card and indicating a uniformed officer standing beside him. "This is officer Daniels. Uh, you may wish to sit down, ma'am, I have to tell you some news about your son."

"Charles?" Lilian clutched her husband's arm, "Is he alright? What's happened?"

The young detective shuffled his feet and twisted his hat in his hands. "He's been taken to hospital, ma'am, I'm afraid he's been hit by a car."

**To be continued…**


	5. Return

**In Love and Peace**

**Part Five**

"Honoria, go and fetch your father – oh, and the doctor. I think he's coming to, at last!"

Hearing his mother's voice, Charles opened his eyes slowly, frowning as he tried to work out where he was, and why he felt as though he'd been nailed down – he couldn't move, and he hurt all over.

"Darling! You're awake!"

His mother's face swam into view, and he blinked up at her, realising she was holding his hand. "M…Mother? What…? Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital, darling, you… had a bit of an argument with an automobile."

"Oh." He tried to remember, while his mother dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and blew her nose, obviously overwhelmed with relief. The last thing he could recall was… leaving somewhere… a hotel… he'd been upset, he'd been on his way to… "Sooni!" he exclaimed. He looked from his mother, seated by the bed, to his father, who had hurried into the room to stand behind her, and Honoria, next to him. "Where's Sooni?" he asked.

His mother patted his hand. "All in good time, dear. You need to concentrate on getting well," she said.

"Where is she?" he demanded, trying to sit up. "_Ow_!"

The door opened at that moment, and a doctor he recognised as Kelly from A&E came in. "Charles, you should know better than to try to move just yet!" he scolded, "You've got a broken collar bone, fractured ribs, punctured lung, dislocated shoulder and greenstick-fractured tibia, not to mention the knock on the head you took. You've been unconscious for the best part of three days. Now lie still!" He turned to Charles' family. "I need to examine the patient, folks, if you wouldn't mind waiting outside for a few minutes?"

"No," said Charles, tightening his grip on his mother's hand, "Not until they've answered my question."

Honoria stepped forward "Let me, mother," she said, quietly.

"We'll be right outside, dear," said his mother, stooping to bestow a kiss before getting up and going out of the room along with his father.

Kelly gave Charles a stern glare. "You've got one minute," he said, exiting behind them.

Charles sighed. "Just tell me," he said.

"Once she knew you were g…going to be alright, she s…said she d…didn't want to cause any m…more trouble," said Honoria, sitting on the bed and taking his hand. "She w…went back with F…Father Mulcahy and the orphans this m…morning. I'm suh…so sorry, Charles. I t…tried to make her s…stay, but I c…couldn't. I just c…couldn't." She let go of his hand and opened her handbag. "She left you a letter," she said, pressing an envelope into his palm and leaning carefully forward to kiss his cheek. "I know how m…much she loves you, Charles. I guess she thought this was the only w…way."

She got up and left the room, closing the door quietly. Behind her, Charles bit down on his lip and crumpled the envelope in his fist.

* * *

"Hey! Can I come in?"

Charles looked up from a book he couldn't concentrate on anyway to find Hawkeye Pierce grinning at him from the doorway. "Looks like you already have," he said, tossing the book aside. "And here I thought you'd all gone home."

Pierce grinned, strolled across to drop into the bedside chair. "Nah, I figured I could hang around for a day or six. Amy had to go teach, and Margaret and Doug couldn't get their leave extended any, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me - Dad's taking my patients this week, so I don't have to rush back." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a hip-flask. "Thought you might like to stash this under your pillow," he said, "I promise I didn't brew it myself."

Charles took it, unscrewed the top and sniffed it. "Cognac!" he said, impressed, "Oh, wait, don't tell me – this is from one of those bottles you 'liberated' from my own supply in the Swamp, isn't it?"

"How'd you…?" Pierce spluttered. He gave one of his sheepish grins. "Yeah, okay. You got me." A shrug. "A least I saved you some, huh?"

"Generous of you," said Charles. He took a sip, closing his eyes for a moment as he savoured the taste. "When I get out of here, remind me to do something about the hospital food," he said, "That's the best thing I've tasted all week."

While he stoppered the flask and pushed it under his pillow, Pierce got up and wandered to the end of the bed to examine his medical chart. "Hmm, looks like you're doing okay for a guy who took on a Buick and lost," he said, "Though I gather the car was a write-off, so maybe that means you won?"

"Doesn't feel like I won from where I'm lying," said Charles.

"No, I guess not." Pierce's face grew more serious, along with his tone of voice, as he put the chart back and sat down again. "We all tried to talk her out of it, you know – your sister, Mulcahy, all of us. She just… she felt she'd caused you enough hurt already, I guess."

"I know," said Charles. He put a hand over the letter he kept in the pocket of his pyjama jacket, as though he needed to check it was there. "She wrote me."

"Well, you're not going to leave it at that, are you?" Pierce stood up and began to pace about. Charles wondered why he couldn't ever stay still for more than a minute at a time. "Charles, your parents… I don't think much of your parents, Charles, you might as well know that, but I _do_ know that they were beside themselves with worry when they got here the other night. They were terrified they were going to lose their son. Now that they've got you safe, do you really think they'll want to risk losing you again, just because you insist on marrying a woman who makes you happy, and not some society deb they've picked out for you?"

"What difference does it make?" said Charles, "Sooni's not here for me to marry, is she?"

"Then go _get_ her!" said Hawkeye, raising his voice and pointing toward the door. "Jeez, Charles, don't tell me you can't afford the air fare!" He braced his hands on the bed's footboard. "You've got another five weeks in traction," he said, "Write her, send her flowers, send her a ticket back here, anything! You can't just let her go, you numbskull! And if your parents object, tell them you'll throw yourself under a truck next time if they don't agree!"

Charles found he was smiling. He hadn't done much of that these past few days. "I doubt my parents approve of you either, Pierce," he said, "You do have a habit of opening your mouth where angels fear to speak. Occasionally though, you do manage to say something that borders on the sagacious."

"Yeah, and sensible too," said Pierce. He whipped a felt-tip pen from his pocket and walked around to start scribbling on the plaster-cast on Charles' leg. "Look, I'm going to write it here to make sure you don't forget, okay?"

When he finished and stood back, Charles could see he had written, in block capital letters: _Get better. And then go get her, Chuckles_!

**

* * *

November 1954**

The cab pulled into the yard, and Charles handed the fare and a generous tip to the driver, and collected his crutches from the footwell.

"Do you need any help, sir?" the driver asked.

"No. Thanks, I can manage." He opened the door and, putting out his good leg first, hauled himself out and got onto the crutches.

The cab pulled away, and he was left alone in the yard, looking up at the house. It was in a better state of repair than he remembered – the walls were sound, the windows glazed and the roof was complete. It was quiet, save for the noise of the chickens that were pecking around the yard, and the receding noise of the car engine.

He supposed he ought to have let Sooni know he was coming. But he had found it difficult to find the words to put in a letter, had had no response to the flowers he had sent. If she was out in the fields somewhere, or had gone to Seoul for a week, he would just have to wait. Assuming he could get in the house!

He braced himself on the crutches, and started toward the door, stopping in his tracks as it opened and Kyung Soon came out, drying her hands on an apron. He doubted she could have looked more astonished if she'd found one of the chickens doing a song and dance routine. "Charles? I heard the car, I…" She walked toward him steadily, as though she was afraid he was an apparition that would disappear if she moved too quickly. "You came back? For me?" She was right in front of him now, and put out a hand to touch the front of his coat. "Haven't I caused you enough trouble already?"

"Nothing that happened in Boston was your fault," he said, aching to hold her and silently damning his need for the crutches, "Unless you count my proposing to you. Sooni, right now my parents wouldn't object if I said I wanted to marry a rainforest pygmy!"

She ducked her head, but he had already seen that he'd made her smile.

Encouraged he went on: "I won't pretend to you that it will be easy, my love, but I can tell you that these past six weeks without you have been hell on earth. I need you, Sooni. I love you, and all I want right now is to get Father Mulcahy to marry us, so that we don't have to waste any more time worrying about what other people might think. Paris might have to wait till next year, but if you'd like to we could go back to Boston via some great places in the States – San Francisco, Hannibal Missouri, Fort Dix…"

"Crabapple Cove?" she added, raising her eyes to meet his.

He nodded. "Anywhere you like," he promised, bending his head to kiss her.

She stepped away a little, and for a moment he feared she was going to go back into the house and leave him standing in the dust, but then she put her hands on his arms where he held the crutches, and shook her head. "I can't believe you came back for me," she murmured, "No-one ever did that before!"

"I can't imagine why not," said Charles, "You're worth crossing half the world for, Kyung Soon."

Her smile broadened, and she put her arms around his neck. "Then I will cross half the world for you too, Charles," she said.

He put his weight on his good leg, and pulled her into his arms to kiss her properly, dropping the crutches as he did so. He wouldn't be needing them for a while anyway – he had no intention of letting go of Sooni for a very long time.

**The end**


End file.
